Tis the Season
by A Story Short
Summary: A collection of fluffy holiday ficlets
1. Letters to Santa

_A child at the library tells Belle he's writing a letter to Santa. After he explains who Santa is, she doesn't realize it's a myth and writes her own letter.  
_

* * *

Morgan Jensen wasn't a _bad_ boy, just an active and inquisitive one, so it was odd to see the seven year old sitting so still and writing so studiously at one of the children's tables in the library. Lowering herself to sit in the small chair opposite him, Belle waited until he looked up to ask, "What are you working on?"

"It's my letter to Santa," Morgan told her as if that answered everything, bowing his ginger head over his work again as Belle tried to puzzle out who Santa might be. The boy said the name like he expected her to recognize it, so she assumed it was someone who belonged to this new world.

"Who's Santa?" she asked when he looked up again, and Morgan gave her the look children reserved for adults who were putting them on. "No really. I don't know."

A critical look ascertained her honesty, then Morgan sat up straighter, his small chest puffing out at the opportunity to impart knowledge that an adult didn't have. "Santa Claus lives at the North Pole, and every Christmas he brings presents to people who are good. If you're not good, he brings you coal instead."

Privately, Belle thought that coal might be a very useful present, but Morgan made a face when he mentioned it, so it was clearly undesirable. "How does he know who's good and who's not?"

The little boy leaned closer like he was telling a secret. "Magic."

At that word, she perked up. Rumpelstiltskin had told her this was a world without magic, but he'd clearly been mistaken. Perhaps he'd never heard of Mr. Claus, and Belle wondered if she could arrange for a meeting. "What do you put in your letter?"

"I'm telling Santa why I was good- I picked up my toys when Mom told me to. And I'm telling him what presents I want him to bring me. I have a long list."

Belle thought she had a handle on the basics, but she extended her hand for Morgan's letter just in case. "May I read it?"

"I'm not done," he cautioned her but handed over the letter with no argument, and Belle read it to herself. "Dear Santa, I have been very good this year when Mom tells me to pick up my toys I do. I am seven years old. I want you to bring me a super ninja action figure, a gameboy with lots of games, a stuffed dinosaur, a Harry Potter wand that really works..." The list of toys went on for quite some time, and Belle didn't recognize most of them. After skimming through it, she handed the letter back to Morgan, who promptly began adding to his list, and returned to her desk, retrieving a piece of stationary for herself.

Ruby had told her a little bit about Christmas, and she thought the holiday sounded charming. If writing a letter to Santa Claus was one of the requirements, Belle would not be found wanting.

"Dear Mr. Claus, I'm sorry I haven't written to you before, but..." She hesitated, trying to think of a way to translate 'I was locked in the basement of a mental hospital with no memories' into something that would be appropriate to put in a letter to a stranger. "...I didn't have access to writing materials. I apologize for my lapse, and I hope you are well. I feel that I have been good this year because I have been helping Rumpelstiltskin to make better choices in how he deals with others, and I supported Ruby when she worried about her werewolf side. I am..."

She paused again. She'd been twenty-six when the queen locked her up, but she'd technically been in the hospital for twenty-eight years after that, making her fifty-four. Furrowing her nose, she continued "...twenty-six years old. For Christmas I would like a selection of new books for the library and..."

Try as she might, Belle could think of nothing else that she wanted. Her apartment had come furnished, and thanks to Rumpelstiltskin, she owned more clothes than she'd ever seen before in her life. She missed her mother's necklace, but Regina had taken that from her, and even if Santa Claus did have magic, she wouldn't ask him to retrieve it for her. Only one more thing came to mind. Scratching out the "and" she started a new sentence.

"Rumpelstiltskin brought us to this world to find his son, but he can't leave the town limits. Since you have magic, I would like it if you could help. His name is Baelfire, and we're not sure how old he would be, but he has brown hair and eyes. I'm sorry I can't give you more information."

A moment's thought told her that this was a very large present to ask for, and she continued, "If you can find Baelfire, I don't need the books. I realize this is a present for Rumpelstiltskin too, but he has also been good this year. He has been helping Henry without asking a price and trying to be honest with me. Please don't bring him coal. Thank you very much. Sincerely, Belle"

She read over her letter and nodded in satisfaction. At the very least, Santa Claus might take an interest in their quest and stop to talk with them. If he had magic enough to know if someone was good or bad, surely he had the magic to know where to find someone specific. Rumpelstiltskin would be so pleased if she managed to find someone who could help.

After sealing the letter in an envelope, Belle realized she had a problem: she didn't have the faintest idea what Santa Claus's address was. In the Enchanted Forest, all she'd needed was a person's name, and the birds did the rest, but the birds in this world weren't quite as helpful. If she'd been thinking, she would have gotten his address from Morgan before he left; the boy had been a fount of knowledge.

The computer sat innocently on her desk, and she stared it down. She'd mastered the art of searching the card catalog and checking books in and out, but that was about it. Although she knew the computer was capable of much more- Henry had told her there were entire libraries of information in that one small box- she'd been too busy trying to get the library sorted out to figure out how to use it. The few times she'd tried, it had made horrible beeping noises at her, and she had the feeling it was no fonder of her than she was of it.

Still, if the computer knew so much, it might know where she should send her letter, and she was just getting ready to attempt it when the front door open, the sound of a cane on tile telling her exactly who her visitor was.

Although Rumpelstiltskin had been dropping by the library every week or so to check out a book that Belle wasn't certain that he bothered to read, he always looked wary when he first entered as though he expected to be summarily ordered to leave.

This time he brightened when she waved him over eagerly. While she didn't want to share the contents of her letter- not wanting to disappoint him if Santa Claus couldn't help- she could at least find out if he was familiar with the magician.

After a quick kiss on the cheek in greeting, she asked, "I was talking to Morgan Jensen today, and he told me about a man named Santa Claus. Have you heard of him?"

He blinked at her in much the same way he had when she first asked if he'd ever had a hamburger. "Yes, of course."

Disappointment curled in her stomach. Belle had hoped to tell him something new, but perhaps all was not lost. "Have you ever talked to him?"

For a moment Rumpelstiltskin just stared at her, then he said, "... No?" like he wasn't sure it was the correct answer.

Satisfied, she nodded. Rumpelstiltskin tended to play his cards close to the vest. It didn't surprise her at all that he hadn't asked for help. Perhaps he hadn't thought he was sufficiently good to warrant Santa Claus's attention, but Belle hoped she'd made her case well enough in the letter. "Why?" he asked.

If Rumpelstiltskin had heard of Santa Claus, perhaps he would know his address. That at least gave her an excuse for asking without revealing the present she'd requested for them. Holding up her envelope, she said, "I wrote him a letter, but I don't have his address. Do you know it?"

His lips parted like he wanted to say something, then he closed them firmly and plucked the envelope out of her hand, tucking it into his jacket pocket. "I'll take care of this for you, sweetheart," he promised, and a warm glow filled her at the endearment. He'd used them less since she moved out, but she still liked hearing them.

"I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner with me tonight," he offered. "Have you ever heard of lasagna?"

Belle hadn't, but she liked the sound of it. Retrieving her coat, she followed him out onto the street, threading her arm through his after she locked the door. "So, what did you ask Santa for?"

Hugging his arm and her secret close, Belle dimpled. "It's a surprise."

He chuckled and pressed a daring kiss to her hair. "Well, I hope he brings you what you want."

Smiling to herself, Belle promised, "If he does, you'll be the first to know."


	2. The Perfect Gift

_Belle tries to find the perfect Christmas gift for Mr. Gold._

* * *

When Belle first overheard the mention of something called Christmas, she'd done what she generally did when confronted with something completely unfamiliar: she paid a visit to the card catalogue. While some things about this new world weren't well represented by books- she still wasn't sure what a Twitter was- Christmas provided her with a treasure trove of information in both the fiction and nonfiction sections.

She started her way through the stack, making notes as she went. A decorated tree in the house would be strange but lovely, and the pictures of lights she found made her think of fairies. Rumpelstiltskin, she was quite sure, would not approve.

Many of the fictional stories centered on the idea of presents and the importance of getting exactly the right one. That gave her pause. Clearly she was expected to produce a gift for the important people in her life, and although that list had only one name on it, it was a daunting one. What would Rumpelstiltskin like to get as a gift?

Money in this land was odd, but he'd given her something called a Credit Card that she assumed was magical. All she had to do was wave it at a shop, and she would be given whatever she wanted. Rumpelstiltskin insisted that the shopkeeper would be reimbursed for the goods, and so Belle had used it with impunity. She could buy him anything she chose, but she couldn't think of a single thing he might like.

Both at the Dark Castle and his pink home in this world, Rumpelstiltskin had more possessions than anyone she'd ever known. No dragon could have a bigger hoard. He wanted for nothing, which made gifting problematic.

Belle poked her nose into shop after shop, but nothing so much as caught her eye. As far as she knew, the only thing he wanted was to find his son, and there was nothing she could provide that would help with his quest. Out of everything he owned, the only thing he claimed to cherish was her chipped cup, the one memento he'd had of her during their long years of separation. She sighed, her heart aching as she thought of him being alone for so long- his son lost, his true love dead. She'd suffered in Regina's prisons, but he'd suffered too, and she'd do anything to go back and fix things so he wouldn't be lonely.

There was no magic powerful enough to turn back time, and there was no way to give him those years back, but maybe she could still find a way to share that time with him. The one purchase she made was a small notebook bound in gold and green, colors that reminded her of him. She knew exactly what his present would be.

That night Belle sat at the kitchen table in her small apartment and opened the notebook, thinking back to the first time she'd ever seen her true love's face. If anyone had told her she'd fall in love with him, she would have injured herself laughing. Still there had been something about him that hypnotized her. Picking up her pen, she began to write:

_Even the first day, you never frightened me, and I never thought of you as a monster. You did look strange, and you did your best to throw us all off balance, but you were also the man who could save my village. The only thing I feared was that your price would be too high for us to pay. I knew you wouldn't want our gold, but I couldn't think of what else you might demand. You could have asked anything- every firstborn child in the village, for us to poison our nearest neighbor's wells- instead you asked for me. You gave me the chance to save my people. How could I ever consider you a monster? All I felt was grateful._

Closing her eyes, she relived the memory of Rumpelstiltskin taking her from her father's castle to his own. From that moment on, she'd been his although neither of them had realized it at the time.

_I was determined to be a good caretaker. I told myself that I wouldn't give you any reason to be disappointed in me or take me back and break the deal. I expected you to be distant and haughty and cruel, but instead you made me laugh. You could have punished me when I chipped the cup, but you dismissed it like it was nothing. I knew then that I could be happy in my new life. _

Her pen picked up speed as more memories came to her- Rumpelstiltskin transforming her impractical golden gown into the sensible blue dress that had fit so comfortably, the time he'd locked her dungeon door by magic, making her wander the halls before she could sleep only to lead her to a beautiful bedchamber, the way he hummed to himself when he spun.

These were all things they'd never discussed. She'd told him that she loved him but not why, and if they'd ever talked this out, their story could have gone much differently. Now was the time to get everything out into the open. He'd given her the story of his son, and it was only right that she give him her story in return. And her story was always him.

_I realized I loved you the day I tried to take the curtains down and fell into your arms. It wasn't that you saved me. Rather it was the wonder in your face as you looked at the sun. You looked confused and awestruck and like you were only then remembering how to be happy. I knew at that moment that I wanted to make you happy._

Belle's mouth twisted in a bittersweet smile. She had made him happy for a time. Then everything had gone so horribly wrong.

_I made the mistake of thinking that I knew you, that I understood you. I thought I'd kiss you and break your curse and we'd live happily ever after. I didn't mean to frighten you, and I never thought that my kiss would take away your power. We both made mistakes that day, and it's time I apologized for mine. I'm so sorry, Rumpelstiltskin._

He'd apologized for casting her out, but Belle had never acknowledged her own role in their falling out, and it was high time that she did. Her impulsive kiss had nearly cost him his chance of finding his son, and she needed to remember that the next time she decided to act without thinking.

_I thought of you every day in Regina's prison. I remembered our time together and worried for you, hoping you were well. I never doubted your love for me or that you'd come for me if you could. I made a game out of imagining what you might be doing, who you were terrorizing, what deals you were making. It made me feel closer to you. I never lost faith that we'd see each other again._

She'd missed his jokes and odd statements, the color of his eyes, and the way his hair curled. She'd missed watching him spin and listening to his stories of faraway places, and she'd spent so many nights with her eyes closed, imagining him sitting at his wheel so clearly that she felt she could reach out and touch him.

_Even after the curse took my memories, I knew there was someone out there I needed to find. I didn't know who or why, but I knew I wasn't really alone. And then Jefferson sent me to you. Some part of me recognized you instantly although I didn't know your name. I followed you into the woods, but I would have followed you anywhere. _

There was less to tell about their time in Storybrooke. They'd both been more open with each other this time around, and although they were still stumbling, at least now it felt like they were stumbling in the right direction. Belle wrote a bit about how happy their reunion had made her and how honored she was that he'd told her about his son, but in the end there was really only one more thing she needed to say.

_I will never stop loving you. I may not like everything that you do, but I love _you_. True Love is the most powerful magic of all; you taught me that. Whatever happens, I have faith in us. I have faith that someday you'll look at yourself and see the man that I do- you're so much better than you think you are. I have faith that we'll find your son. I have faith that we can make this work._

_I have faith in you, Rumpelstiltskin. I love you._

Feeling like she'd trapped her soul on the pages, Belle closed the notebook and wrapped it in brightly colored paper, tying it off with ribbon. It was an unconventional present to be sure but the only one that felt right. She'd given Rumpelstiltskin her heart years ago. It was only fair to give him the rest.

Even so, her hand shook a few weeks later when they met for dinner on Christmas Eve and she proffered the small package. He took it from her, looking perplexed, "What's this?"

Swallowing hard, Belle tried to smile. "Me."


	3. Deck the Halls

_After much hard work, Rum and Belle left Storybrooke and found Bae, who is still 14 years old. Now it's time to celebrate their first Christmas as a family.  
_

* * *

Rumpelstiltskin paused in the kitchen doorway and just stared at the sight that met his eyes, scarcely daring to breathe. Two people sat at the kitchen island, their dark head bowed industriously over their work as they wrote, stopping occasionally to check on the other's progress with smothered laughter.

After three years of searching for a way out of Storybrooke, he and Belle had finally succeeded in breaching the town limits and set out on a epic quest that brought them from Maine to California and back again until they ended up right back at Storybrooke's wishing well with all the pieces of magic necessary to complete the portal and bring Baelfire home at last. Together, they'd pulled the boy onto safe ground, and he'd thrown himself into his papa's arms in relief. For Bae, only seconds had passed between the moment the cowardly Dark One had let him go, and learning that centuries had gone by for his papa had come as a bit of a surprise. As had Belle.

Proving his good sense, the boy had taken to Belle immediately, and with Bae's blessing secured, she'd finally agreed to become his wife and Bae's mama, their family complete at last. Now, two months later, the three of them were deeply engaged in getting ready for Christmas- Bae's first.

_Everything_ about the new world fascinated Bae, and Belle delighted in teaching him everything she'd learned herself. Even after four years in this world without magic he occasionally caught her playing with one of the faucets, entranced by the running water, and Bae had picked up the habit himself. This afternoon, however, the pair had a more important task than marveling over modern conveniences. They were writing letters to Santa Claus.

It had taken no shortage of fancy footwork to make certain that nothing shattered Belle's belief in the man she called the magician of the North. His cane didn't suit him to sneaking around, but with Belle's happiness as the goal and a healthy supply of magic at his fingertips, presents had appeared under the tree every year and cookies had been eaten without him ever getting out of their warm bed, Belle blissfully convinced that a fat man in a red suit had paid them a visit.

Bae had been more skeptical, but Belle's enthusiasm had won over his distrust of magic, and his boy was even now deciding what he wanted Santa to bring him. From what he could tell, Belle wanted a way to grow flowers all year round, and a covert internet search had ensured that Santa would be bringing her an Aerogarden. Forget condiments, Amazon was this world's most powerful magic.

"The reindeer won't be able to pull the sleigh if your lists get much longer," he teased. Belle and Bae jumped at the sound of his voice, both of them turning identical, beaming smiles on him, and his breath caught in his chest. They looked so much alike in that moment that they could be mother and son in truth, not just by law. It had taken him centuries, but he finally had what he'd always wanted- his family.

"The tree won't trim itself," he scolded, and they abandoned their letters to follow him into the living room where a mere snap of his fingers could have easily decorated the tree. That would take all of the fun out of it though.

He did use a bit of magic to unravel the strings of lights and keep the fiddly little bulbs lit. He was reformed, not a martyr. Bae hadn't been sure what to make of the idea of having a tree inside, but once the lights were plugged in, his eyes shone even brighter. "Wow."

"Wait until we get the ornaments on," Belle promised, and they set up an assembly line. He unboxed them, the job allowing him to rest his bad knee as Belle handed the ornaments to Bae, telling him the story behind each while he carefully hung them on the tree.

"We got this one in Seattle," she told him, handing him a miniature Starbucks mug, and Bae nodded like he had any idea where Seattle was or what a Starbucks was. "We needed some kind of special lichen that grew outside of town, and your papa was being a grump because he hadn't had enough sleep, so we stopped off for coffee."

As he recalled the story, they'd been gallivanting around for three days straight at that point, and he'd been feeling deprived of something other than sleep. The coffee had helped, and they'd taken care of other matters in the car directly thereafter. In truth, he remembered the parking lot more fondly than the cafe itself, but Bae didn't need to hear that part of the story.

The mug was followed by a little silver spaceship, then a glass rose. Next came a glittery lemon, a little black cat, and a miniature tapestry, all picked up during their travels. No matter how many times he looked at the tapestry, he couldn't figure out if the picture was actually indecent or if the ornament's low quality just made it look that way. Either way, Belle adored the ugly thing, and up it went.

Nothing matched, but somehow that just made the tree more charming. The three of them didn't match either, but they _fit_, and that was what made them perfect. Every year they'd add new ornaments and new memories, and the resulting jumble would only get more beautiful.

Through the entire process, Belle kept nudging Bae away from one prime branch directly in the front at eye level. Once every ornament was hung, she darted off, returning a moment later with a small package wrapped in snowman-dotted paper. "Happy early Christmas!" she announced, handing the present to Bae, "It's really for all of us."

Bae tore into the gift with enthusiasm, taking the lid off the small white box to reveal one last ornament. It was a simple glass heart with the words "Our First Christmas" etched on it, but Belle had clearly not been satisfied with it. Instead, she'd glued three small ceramic animals to it. In the upper right hand corner was a dragon with bared teeth and a slightly sheepish expression that could only represent him. In the left corner was a fluffy white cat that somehow had an air of leonine bravery that perfectly signified his Belle. Finally, at the apex of the heart was a little brown teddy bear with the wisest eyes he'd ever seen- truly Bae in animal form.

"Christmas is for family," Belle said as he and Bae took turns turning the ornament over in their hands. "We're a family now. It's our first real Christmas."

A moment later, Rumpelstiltskin found himself holding the ornament alone as Bae threw himself into Belle's arms. "Thanks, Mum," he whispered, and Belle's eyes were bright as she hugged him close.

Unable to resist, he stood up himself, ornament in hand and wrapped his arms around both of them, everything he held dear held safe in his arms at last.


	4. Let It Snow

_Belle gets excited about a fresh snowfall at the Dark Castle._

* * *

Belle awoke with the dawn and pushed open the draperies in the luxurious bedroom Rumpelstiltskin had assigned to her on her second night at the Dark Castle. Stretching in the morning light, her eyes suddenly snapped fully open as she realized what she was seeing- snow.

Snow wasn't an uncommon sight. The mountains around the castle glistened with it constantly, but for some reason- Belle assumed it was magic- the snow had never touched the castle grounds themselves until today. She'd been terribly disappointed when she realized that. The forestlands that had been her original home had been too temperate to produce snow, but Belle had always longed to see it. Her books made it sound magical, but a few months at the Dark Castle had dispelled most of her romantic illusions. Magic was a job like any other that required Rumpelstiltskin to spend long hours in his tower muttering to himself and messing about with beakers, and snow was just white.

Today however was different, and Belle flew through her chores at breakneck speed, eager to see the snow for herself before Rumpelstiltskin's magic made it melt. She placed his breakfast tray down in front of him with more force than usual, all but dancing from foot to foot as she waited for him to decide if he needed anything else, her eyes flickering to her cloak.

"What has you in a tizzy this morning?" he enquired as he took a sip of tea from the chipped cup he seemed to favor.

"It snowed!" Her enthusiasm rated only a bemused look.

"It does that often around here," he pointed out but waved her off, and Belle darted for the door, sweeping her cloak around her before he could change his mind.

The snow reached midway up her calves, immediately filling her dainty shoes with a rush of cold that made her squeak with surprise. The cold wasn't enough to stop her, however, and Belle plowed onward, feeling the crunch of snow beneath her feet. Enjoying the sensation, she hopped in place, warming herself and tamping down the snow where she stood.

For a few minutes she zigzagged through the garden, looking behind her to see her tracks, then set to work pacing out the letters of her name, leaving a vapor trail between 'Belle' and 'Rum', running out of room before she could do any more of his name.

Only momentarily defeated, she flopped backwards into a fresh patch, waving her arms and legs with abandon when Rumpelstiltskin's face appeared above her. "Going for a swim?"

"Making snow fairies!" she exclaimed, trying to figure out how she was supposed to get up without destroying her creation. Wordlessly she held her hands up, and with a long-suffering sigh, Rumpelstiltskin lifted her out of the snow, releasing her as soon as she cleared the fairy.

The outline wasn't quite perfect- the fairy's left wing was bigger than its right- but overall Belle thought it was a fine first effort. "Can we make a snowman?"

A flick of Rumpelstiltskin's wrist created a swirl of snow that dissipated to leave a towering snowman at least ten feet high. Belle folded her arms across her chest. "You're not doing it right."

"Excuse me?" he asked, but there was no real affront in his voice, and she bent over to attempt to roll up a snowball of her own, determined to make a real snowman, with or without his help.

Her hands were freezing, but what really annoyed her was the way the snow insisted on falling apart every time she managed to start a decent-sized ball. Huffing in frustration, she tried again, only to find Rumpelstiltskin's hands joining her own. "You have to pack it," he explained, showing her how to mold the snow into a tight ball before starting to roll, stopping periodically to push it down again until they had a ball of snow that reached her waist.

Together they rolled up another, slightly smaller ball, and Belle was willing to swear she felt the faint pinprick of magic as they maneuvered it on top of the first. This time she didn't argue, the weight of the snow enough to make her question whether it would have held together otherwise. The head was quicker and easier to position, and soon enough they had a snowman that was exactly her height.

Using her finger, Belle gave the snowman eyes and a mouth, but it still looked unfinished. Inspiration struck and she removed her cloak, draping it around the snowman's- snowwoman's now- shoulders. Beside her, Rumpelstiltskin extended his hand, offering her two large sapphires. "She needs better eyes than that."

Belle pressed them into place, clapping her hands with delight at her snowy replica. "We should make a snow you," she suggested before the wind gusted and she shivered violently at the lack of her cloak.

"Perhaps later," he demurred, "You should get warmed up."

In truth her hands were freezing and her feet were numb, so Belle acquiesced, turning to return to the warm castle. Her numb feet managed only a handful of steps before she skidded on a patch of ice that had formed during her earlier exertions, and she toppled forward with a yelp of dismay.

Instead of landing face first in a snowdrift, she found herself caught and held, her nose pressed against Rumpelstiltskin's neck. Unlike her, he was perfectly warm, and she nuzzled forward for a moment before she realized what she was doing. "Th-thank you," she stammered, getting her feet back under her.

"No matter," he dismissed, and there was an odd note in his voice, somehow breathless although it couldn't have been that much of an effort to catch her. "Come now before you freeze, and I have to find a new housekeeper."

She chuckled weakly, leading the way inside with him close behind her. Although he didn't touch her, somehow Belle knew that if she slipped again, she wouldn't even begin to fall. Since the first night, she'd felt herself to be in no danger here, but she'd never felt safer than she did at that moment.

Rumpelstiltskin stayed close until they were once more inside and away from the hazards of ice and snow, then vanished into his tower so quickly that she wondered if he'd used magic to get away. She found herself staring after him for long moments before shaking herself and going to change out of her sodden dress. Somehow when he'd touched her, she'd forgotten she was cold.


	5. Under the Mistletoe

_Belle makes a mistletoe ball and a deal with Gold: one kiss per berry. Naturally he cheats._

* * *

The mistletoe ball was really very pretty, Belle decided as she examined her handiwork. It was the first thing she'd made at one of Rapunzel's Saturday crafts classes that she was genuinely pleased with, and unlike its less successful brethren, it wouldn't be cluttering up her small apartment. This creation had a very particular destination in mind.

"Lovely," Rumpelstiltskin complimented her as she finished attaching the decoration to the light fixture in the shop's back room.

"Merry Christmas!" she chirped, getting into the spirit of the new holiday. The custom of mistletoe harkened back to the Enchanted Forest's Solstice Festivals, but those festivals hadn't had the brightly colored lights or candy canes that she so enjoyed in this world.

"Very merry indeed," he agreed, his eyes shining as he leaned down to brush his lips against hers. He'd been shy of her since she moved out of his home, and Belle had hoped her gift would be a big enough hint that she'd appreciate a kiss or two. They might not be ready for more just yet, but she missed the closeness they'd shared in the few days after her release from the asylum. It was good to know that he _wanted_ to kiss her after what had happened the first time.

Belle sighed against his lips, enjoying the moment before he released her, looking nervous, like he expected a smack for his presumption. "Lovely," she pronounced, stealing his own word before reaching up and carefully plucking one white berry from the mistletoe ball.

"What _are_ you doing?" he asked in the bemused tone he seemed to use only with her.

"You know the rules," she scolded, tucking the berry into her pocket, "One kiss per berry. Once the berries are gone, no more kisses."

He looked so blank at her statement that Belle wondered if he actually did know the tradition. If he hadn't, he did now. He gave the ball a critical look, apparently counting the berries, and she stifled a giggle. She'd deliberately chosen the mistletoe sprigs with the greatest number of berries, so as far as she was concerned, he didn't have anything to worry about. They hardly had to ration themselves.

Apparently Rumpelstiltskin quickly came to the same conclusion, leaning in for another, slightly longer kiss before plucking a berry for himself. "One kiss, one berry," he repeated, and Belle was pleased he'd decided to play along.

Once back at her apartment, she couldn't bring herself to part with the berry, so she retrieved a small dish, placing it on her nightstand and placing the berry inside for safekeeping. It represented the first kiss of their newly reformed relationship, and she wanted to hold onto the memory for as long as she could.

As the weeks leading up to Christmas passed, more berries joined the first one in her dish, and Belle blushed to look at them. Each kiss got a little longer and a little deeper as they slowly relearned each other. They'd had one magical- if brief- kiss at the Dark Castle, and upon their reunion they'd all but thrown themselves into bed. It was nice to slow down and explore.

Explore they did. Hands wandered over bodies- still chaste if only just- as tongues met and mated, the pair of them learning every crevice of the other's mouth. Rumpelstiltskin always tasted faintly of tea and cloves, and Belle thought of it as the taste of magic. Occasionally she wondered what she tasted like, but it seemed an odd question to ask.

No matter how many kisses they shared, there were always more berries hiding in the greenery, and she congratulated herself on how well she'd chosen her sprigs, the ball swaying on its gold velvet ribbon as they plucked off berry after berry between increasingly-hungry kisses.

After their latest encounter, Belle wandered home in a happy daze, her fingers playing with the berries in her pocket. When she attempted to place them in her dish, they rolled off the top of the pile onto the floor, and as she bent to retrieve them, she noticed for the first time just how full her little dish was. Surely even her laden sprigs couldn't have held this many berries.

Suspicious, she retraced her steps, forgoing the front door of the shop for the back and easing inside as her eyes found Rumpelstiltskin standing beneath their mistletoe, a purple glow encasing it. She wasn't sure if she wanted to laugh or smack him as clusters of white berries reappeared where a moment ago there had been none. She settled for drawling, "I believe that's called cheating."

He jumped at the sound of her voice, turning to face her with the air of a dog that knew it had done something wrong and hoped that if it looked cute enough, it wouldn't get in trouble. "Ah! Belle."

Nothing more seemed to be forthcoming, and she stepped further into the shop, closing the door behind her. "Haven't we discussed misusing magic?" she asked.

"I'm not trying to kill anyone this time," he said quickly. "You said that I could use magic for the greater good."

Indeed she had. His power was too great to be denied completely. As long as he was using his magic to benevolent ends, Belle didn't disapprove. "I don't think that extra kisses constitutes a greater good."

"I disagree," he said, stepping closer and sliding his arm around her waist. "Kissing you is the greatest good of my life."

She gave in, melting into him as his mouth found hers, their tongues sliding against each other as he showed her just how good kissing could be. Her eyes flickered open as he released her, focusing on the chipped cup that sat in a place of honor on his workbench, all but overflowing with berries. "You're incorrigible."

"That's why you like me," he said, a bit hesitantly.

"No," Belle shook her head, smiling tenderly at the stricken look on his face, "That's why I love you."

The next time she glanced up, the mistletoe ball was so covered in berries that the greenery could scarcely be seen, and she chuckled before wrapping herself around him again. They had a lot of kissing to do if they were ever going to make a start on the second and third balls she'd made.


End file.
